


Inspiration

by lori (zakhad)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

Once, as my heart remembers,  
all the stars were fallen embers.  
Once, when night seemed forever  
I was with you.

Once, in the care of morning  
in the air was all belonging.  
Once, when that day was dawning.  
I was with you.

How far we are from morning.  
how far are we  
and the stars shining through the darkness,  
falling in the air.

Once, as the night was leaving  
into us our dreams were weaving.  
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.  
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,  
I was with you.

~ Enya ~

~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~

Spock walked alone, into the night.

Rechi would be waiting for him. The knowledge usually made him keep a steady pace, in spite of the drag of the years and the weariness he often felt after a day in the city. He was still a guest in his friend's home even though he had been here on this foreign world for some years now.

But tonight, for some reason, the stars seemed to beckon. He glanced up, the hood falling back from his face; he pushed it down to lay against the back of his neck. The night breeze felt cold in his ears.

Hesitating on the path, he identified the day by a calendar he hadn't used for a very long time, and knew.

The dry grass crackled under his boots as he climbed the hill away from the path. At the top, he stood a moment, studying the terrain -- this appeared to be the highest point along the ridge. Treeless, with the wind rustling in the grasses. . . the exposed area would meet with the disapproval of his compatriots. Too much risk. They couldn't afford to be careless. Keep moving, don't stay long alone in one spot. The Empire had eyes and ears everywhere, even in open areas like the l'cHar hills outside the capital city of Romulus.

He lowered himself to the ground stiffly. Human blood made his age more apparent; were he full Vulcan, he would not have the gray in his hair, nor the various physical complaints. Nor did this world's climate agree with him. He would have preferred a more arid environment. Kaiidth.

The constellations here were nothing like those of either of his home worlds. Still, the stars glittered in the clear black sky. Traces of the clouds of the morning's light showers lingered along the western horizon. The dry grass was all that remained of the summer season; soon it would be turning green again with the rains.

Spock looked at the stars, burning in the cold of space, and closed his eyes. Remembered.

The bridge.

The ship.

The captain.

He had been aboard under Captain Pike. It hadn't been the same -- he remembered finding the new senior officers deficient at first, but later recognized that as his own uneasiness with the differences. He had found something akin to a 'comfort zone' with the _Enterprise_ under Pike. That first few months of the five-year mission under Kirk had been difficult. He had endured, and adjusted. The rest, as humans say, was history.

Today had been the day James T. Kirk had come aboard for the first time.

As he would never have done so long ago, when he had been young and laboring under the misguided belief that to accept humanity was to abandon Vulcan, he allowed himself to miss his friends.

McCoy. Chekhov. Sulu. Uhura. Scott. Rand. Chapel. M'Benga. The names marched through his mind, even the deceased -- he remembered them, down to the ensigns in security. Down to those transferring aboard to replace the deceased in the line of duty. The smiles. The birthday parties he attended, in the name of being a 'good shipmate,' as Jim told him -- being first officer was more than doing the job.

Jim.

More than anyone else, Jim had been the one to teach him about humanity at its best. Even at his worst, Jim exemplified the best of humanity to Spock. Even when mistakes were made and lives were lost. Jim had taught him that how one handled mistakes said more about one's character than any dozen successes. That how one lived mattered more than how long.

Starfleet was different now. Spock understood -- all organizations, all cultures, all collections of beings in whatever combinations, underwent change. It was the nature of the universe. Change, or die stagnant death. Jim had been a change agent himself so many times. In Spock, in the lives of their fellow officers, in civilizations at times, and eventually in the nature of relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire.

Spock remembered that particular incident with a pang of regret, and allowed it. He had attempted to be an agent of change in affairs larger than himself, beyond the scope of any single mission. He had appealed to Jim to push forward the negotiations for peace, and seen his two best friends tried for murder and sent to Rura Penthe. Jim had trusted him. He had learned first-hand what it felt like to see friends suffer for his decisions.

Harriman. Garrett. Picard. They were all captains with their own merit, Spock was certain. He had never met Harriman or Garrett -- seeing Harriman at the services for Jim did not count, as Spock had not taken the time to so much as look the man in the eye. Garrett had died valiantly, he had heard, and her ship with her. Picard he had met -- after the brief meld during which Picard had shared Sarek's final moments with him, imparting the message from father to son, Spock had gained a sense of the resolve and strength in the man. Spock knew of Picard's career in a general sense, mostly because he had read of him after learning that the latest _Enterprise_ had been given to him. He was a good captain. He possessed solid principles and had what it took to lead a crew into potentially-fatal circumstances. He had the confidence of a seasoned captain accustomed to risk.

But he was of a different era. The Federation was larger and more diverse than ever, the ships larger, Starfleet protocols and regulations more well-defined. The bureaucracy, the technology, the attitudes of officers -- everything had grown out of an era Spock remembered.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. . . when exploration meant sporadic contact with Command, and making decisions that might change entire civilizations. When captains like Kirk were necessary.

Cowboy diplomacy. A coined term for something that had little place in the heavily-regulated Starfleet of the present.

Spock knew most of the old crew were dead. McCoy had died shortly before the journey to Romulus. He no longer knew of the younger ones and had no way of finding out. But he could remember them as if it were yesterday, on the _Enterprise,_ coming back from shore leave with amusing tales to tell, or returning from landing parties solemn or tired, or laughing. He could remember chess in the rec room. Playing the lyre with Uhura singing. Verbal fencing with McCoy. Scotty bringing the engines back on line. Again. Chekhov, teaching them how many things were invented in Russia. Sulu, rapier in hand.

That one last tribble falling from the bin on Jim's head.

Spock opened his eyes and gazed upon the stars, and smiled.

"I remember," he said softly, and again for each of his fellow bridge officers, picturing each face turned, smiling, as they sat at their stations.

He rose, aware that he had been there for over an hour, remembering. His legs responded slowly, with cramping that he ignored. He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute, fingers parted, to the sky.

"We lived long," he whispered. "We prospered, in the morning of our lives. I remember, now, in the evening of my life, and I shall endeavor to continue the work we began together. I shall become, as you have all been, an agent of change. I shall honor you in this way. Rest well, my friends."

He lingered a moment longer. A brief flicker -- what humans would call a falling star. And there, another. He knew that it was only a meteor shower, as were common in this star system; they happened frequently this time of year. He normally paid it little attention. But tonight, it was serendipitous.

Spock watched the gleaming trails across the night sky, counting them until he had matched the numbers of his fallen crewmates. He watched a moment longer, then turned and carefully sidled down the grassy hill. Rechi would be waiting for news of the meeting with their fellow unification-seekers in the city.


End file.
